Through the Looking Glass of Dodge
by the lurker
Summary: Dodge City as seen through the eyes of four different residents on a hot day in August. Written in first person.


GUNSMOKE  
Through the Looking Glass of Dodge  
  
As I stand on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse, coffee cup in hand, the sun has just begun to peek over the roof of the livery stable. This is my favorite part of the day. Most folks aren't up yet, and there's a calm stillness in the morning air. Front Street is devoid of carriages, wagons, and people, so I can admire the sunrise in the company of my own thoughts. I look up and down the main street of town, contemplating what has developed here. Born of the traffic on the Santa Fe Trail, Fort Dodge, and the railroad, Dodge City rose from a lawless town controlled by buffalo hunters, cowboys, and gunslingers, into a home for farmers, ranchers, and law-abiding homesteaders. I cannot resist the grin tugging at my lips, as the thought of my small role in all of it rises into my mind.  
  
My eyes travel down to the shiny tin badge on my chest; it has been the greatest source of pride in my life, and also the greatest source of sadness. My service to the law has been a lonely road to travel, but I know that I could not have lived my life any other way. Not that I haven't sometimes wondered what might have been...but the hands of time can't be turned back, and I suppose that even if I could, I wouldn't change a thing. Over the years, I have made a life here in Dodge City, and consider myself a lucky man. I have good friends, a tough but rewarding job, and a good woman who's put up with more than anyone should over the years.  
  
My gaze travels across the street to the doors of the Long Branch Saloon, and I know that if anyone was watching, he'd notice that the smile on my lips has changed to something deeper and far more personal. I glance up and down the boardwalk to be sure that there is no one about who could notice, and to my relief, I am still alone. _Kitty._ Even after all the years that have passed, when I think of her, my insides shake, and my mouth still goes dry. There never was a prettier gal, nor one with more courage. A slight twinge of guilt stings me, as I think about her tenacity. How many times over the years has she had to bear seeing me shot down in the street, not knowing if I would live or die? My chest pulls tighter at the thought of the hurt and anguish I've caused her; but I know I will never have the grit to leave her.  
  
Kitty is my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness. I cannot imagine living without her, yet I live in fear that my enemies will uncover my feelings for her. I close my eyes as I feel moisture trying to pool in them. The thought of harm coming to Kitty because of me is more than I can bear; and yet, it has already happened. If I were the man people thought of when they heard the name Matt Dillon, I'd leave her. I'd tell her that I love her more than life, and then because of that love, I'd walk away. If I were a stronger man, I'd do it. But somehow, the responsibility of the shiny badge on my chest takes all of my strength, and I am left with weakness where Kitty is concerned. It is this appetite that tarnishes the badge that I have devoted my life to serving.  
  
I cannot help myself. I could no more leave Kitty, than willfully abuse my power as the law. In truth, I know that I've had to draw upon her strength to carry me through the tough times of being Marshal in Dodge. And I have never known a stronger woman than Kitty Russell. I've seen her stare down the toughest of men, and then smile at them, winning their admiration and respect. I've seen her weather all that life has thrown at her, no matter how unfair or unfeeling. And whenever I've needed her, she's always been there for me, never asking for anything in return but my friendship and respect; she has those things, and then some. Another river of guilt runs through me: Kitty deserves so much more than I've given her. She should have had a husband, a home, a family.... things that as a lawman, I never felt I could offer. She knows I love her, but that is just a word; a word I've never had to prove through the action of commitment. In the end, I know that I have been unfair to her, and that I don't deserve her. But I thank God that she has never seen fit to permanently leave me, for that would be my undoing, and I know it. So does she.  
  
I take a sip of my coffee, and realize that it's gone cold. I stare down into the cup, the muddy brown liquid accurately depicting the murkiness of my emotions. Shaking my head at myself, I look once more up and down Front Street. There is no other town that quite has what Dodge City does; and that's the investment of years and emotional roots that we have put down here. I toss the contents of my cup into the dirt of the street, and turn to go back inside the jailhouse. As I close the door behind me, I once again realize that I am smiling; it is the smile of a man well-contented.  
  
--------------------  
  
Delmonico's is unusually quiet this morning; but that happens at this time of the year. The oppressive Kansas heat keeps folks indoors during August, which is probably a smart idea. I consider anything that keeps the citizens of Dodge safe and out of my office during the hottest spell of the year, a good idea. I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the strong, rich flavor, and my mind drifts to Festus. He hasn't been around much lately, heaven only knows why. It couldn't have been the comment I made last week about his freeloading breakfasts off me, because he's been doing _that_ for more than ten years, and it certainly wasn't the _first_ time I ever mentioned it. But I can't help wonderin' why I haven't seen him around. For as much as I argue with that old mule about every possible subject in the world, I miss his company; he's always close to my heart, although I'd sooner die by crucifixion than tell him that.  
  
I stare down into my coffee, and the blurry outline of the cup and saucer assaults me. My eyes have grown old and tired, as I have I suppose. Where did the years go? There's so little time left, and I haven't accomplished half the things I thought I would in my life. Sadness rushes me like an unwelcome storm. It bogs down my heart so, that I feel it might break under the strain. As a young man, I thought I could take on the world and win; and now, I recognize that arrogance as a folly of youth. Regrets fill me faster than I can push them aside. When I am gone, there will be no wife to mourn me; no children to carry on my name; no great medical discovery to testify that I was once here; there will only be some townsfolk in search of a new doctor to take care of them.  
  
My hand comes up quickly to wipe the moisture from my face, and I'm suddenly glad for the heat that has kept people off of Front Street. I rarely give in to the loneliness, but today it is a losing battle. In my heart, I know I've had a good, long life, filled with wonderful friendships and treasured moments; but my inadequate contributions to the medical profession weigh heavily upon me. I've never grown used to it; never been able to truly find the clinical distance that we doctors are supposed to employ when dealing with the sick and dying. Every patient I've ever lost has been personal, which is to say nothing of losing the woman I once loved. And with that thought, all remnants of rationality that I may have had when I awakened this morning are gone.  
  
As I close my eyes to collect myself, her perfume insinuates itself into my conscious mind, and I shake my head in an effort to clear it, but to no avail. It is an olfactory memory from long ago: one that I wish I could stamp out, for it hurts as much now as it did fifty years ago. I can still see her in my mind's eye, sitting on the porch in the height of August, sweat not daring to mar her feminine beauty. She had a smile that could light up the entire East Coast, and red hair that accentuated the brilliant blue of her eyes; but then, I was hopelessly in love with her, and over the years, I'm sure the depiction in my mind has grown more beautiful, or possibly like someone now more familiar.  
  
The picture of the last time I saw her, however, remains as fresh in my mind as if I saw her yesterday. I remember how she looked lying in the street, pale as a blanket of snow, the pain of death on her sweet face, her hands frozen for all time clutching her throat as the breath of life slipped out of her. Medicine didn't save her, and neither did my love. Two days after the funeral I came West, looking to forget; looking to wipe out the painful memory that to this day tears into me with the ferocity of a rabid dog. I've never gotten over her, and think it's safe to say that I never will.  
  
I glance out the front window of Delmonico's in an effort to get a grip on my spiraling emotions, and the sight of Kitty Russell heading to the General Store brings a welcomed smile to my face. Over the years, she has become like a daughter to me, and although we don't speak of it, I know that she is at the least, fond of me. Kitty, Matt and Festus are the only family I'll ever have; they are the reason I built a life here, and why the words Dodge City and have become synonymous in my mind. I couldn't suffer the loss of any one of them, not now, not ever. If anything could kill something as old and stubborn as me, it would be that. I feel the sting of tears, and it angers me.  
  
I pull out my father's old pocket watch, and have to hold it quite a ways from my eyes in order to read the hands on the face. It's long past time that I get to my office and start dealing with the aches and troubles of this ungrateful bunch in Dodge; a smile twists my lips as I place some money on the table and get up to leave: my patients are not at all ungrateful, anymore than I'm the cantankerous old coot I pretend to be..... And the older I get, the harder it is becoming to keep the emotions I feel for my Dodge family out of my eyes, and off of my face. I suppose the older you get, the more you understand what it is to be human, and the less you worry about others finding you out.  
  
Perhaps I'll seek out Festus later today and buy him a beer at the Long Branch. My hand absently swipes across my mustache and chin as I roll the idea around in my head. But I shake my head as I think better of it. Instead, I'll tell him that he owes me a beer at the Long Branch for all those breakfasts I've bought him at Delmonico's....  
  
--------------------  
  
It's barely noon, but on such a hot day, the Long Branch is busy. Not that I'd complain about good business, no, not me, but on a day like this, I can think of other things that I'd rather be doing. I wave the fan in front of my face quickly to provide a fast moment of cool air, but the moment is gone before it starts when I realize that Sam can't pour fast enough to keep up with demand. Without much thought, I move behind the bar and help him serve, he simply nods his thanks, accompanying it with his sweet smile. I'm fortunate to have a man like Sam in my employ. Employ.... it seems strange to think of him that way; he's become a good friend.  
  
Once the rush calms down, I glance over at the corner table, the quietest one in the house, and he's still sittin' there, lost in thought. I've no idea what he's contemplating, but whatever it is, it's made him terribly moody. I suppose it's to be expected with age, but still, I can't help but worry about him. When he gets like this, I've often wondered if he's thinking about his life before Dodge; the life he never talks about. A small smile creeps upon my lips: knowing Doc, he never talks about it because he enjoys being a man of mystery - at least that's as good an explanation as anything else I can think of... He finally looks up and catches me watching him. The ire in his eyes is quick and sure, as is the cross look of his furrowed brow. He downs the rest of his beer, and stalks out of the Long Branch, according me one final glare at the door.  
  
I can only shake my head as I draw in a deep breath. Doc Adams is not an easy man to get along with, any more than he is an easy man to understand. He's a riddle wrapped up in a puzzle, stuffed into a closed book, all hiding a heart wider than the Rio Grande. I know that he's softer than buttercream on the inside, but trying to get there is like crackin' a nut with a feather. More than likely, he'll come back later tonight, when it's quiet, and out the truth will come. Maybe. I shrug as I pull away his beer mug, wipe the table, and head back to the bar with it. As I set down the glass, I hear Festus ask Sam if Doc's been around: how he could have missed him storming out of here is beyond me. And then I realize that I haven't seen the two of them together in over a week. A smile tugs at my lips once more. Doc must have said something cutting, and Festus decided to stay away from him for awhile; that would certainly explain Doc's mood. I've seen old married couples that get along better than Festus and Doc.  
  
Festus hints at a free beer, and I can feel Sam's eyes on me. I have to stifle the grin on my face as I nod. For it's pure innocence, the smile on Festus' face is worth more than the nickel the Long Branch would have made off the beer anyway. And in many ways, innocent is how I see him. I've never known a purer heart, nor a sweeter disposition in a man. Many in town think of him as a simpleton, but they're not as well-practiced as I am in the art of observation; it comes with the territory of owning a saloon. Festus speaks simply, but his mind is sharp, and a braver man would be hard to find. I am more than thankful that he is Matt's deputy, for I know that Festus is as loyal to Matt as the day is long.  
  
_Matt._ I sigh heavily. It's a complicated matter, and I'm just tired enough at this time in the day that I don't want to think about it. I've known many men, but none of them has held my heart like Matt Dillon. I have to sit down wearily as I think of the many times that I've wished I could just walk away from him; from the Long Branch; from Dodge. But I can't, I've tried. I don't possess that kind of inner strength. No matter how many times I've wanted to scream from worry, or anger, or fear, Matt is still my man. He is the strongest man I've ever known in every way, and I can't imagine what my world would be like without him in it. And yet, the hurt in my heart for the fact that I feel like his mistress and not his woman is something I cannot forgive. I have always been, and will always be, second to his badge, and it burns me inside.  
  
I've thought of leaving him many times for making me feel that way, but I know that it isn't out of hostility, nor is it a lack of love. He is a lawman first, and he has never made any bones about it. But no matter how many times I've nodded understanding when he explains to me why we can't settle down and have a family, I'm lying. I will never understand it. Does he honestly believe that because we're not married, and we don't have children, that my losing him will somehow hurt less? He says it's because he doesn't want me to be a means to an end for outlaws, and while I know that's part of it, I also know it's not all of it. He doesn't trust himself. In some way he sees me as some kind of weakness, as some kind of guilty pleasure, and in the end, that hurts most of all.  
  
And still, I love him. A better man I could never find; a truer man does not exist. I know that I'll never leave Dodge, because I could never leave Matt. For better of worse, till death do us part. And while that is certainly the truth, I will never be truly content.  
  
--------------------  
  
Couldn'ta found a more swealtery night if'n I was a-lookin' fer one. The boardwalk ain't got many folks on it, and I can understand why; it's jes' too hot. I set myself down on the bench outside o' the jailhouse, and wipe my head with my rag. I'm feelin' a tad wore out my ownself by all the heat, and on top of it, I ain't got nary a nickel in my vest for so much as a beer at the Long Branch. Cain't go over there tonight with no money seein' as how I hit Sam n' Miss Kitty up fer one this afternoon. I can always count on the kindness of Miss Kitty though. It ain't that I like to count on the kindness of folks, neither, it's jes' that thangs is been a little dry lately in the lookin' fer jobs, an' I'm jes' plumb tapped out.  
  
Miss Kitty's bout the finest lady I ever knowed. Then again, she's prolly the only lady I ever knowed. Thar ain't nothin' better than havin' a strong cup o' coffee with her in the morning at the Long Branch, then headin' over to Delmonico's for some breakfast bacon and eggs with Doc-- That is when that ornery ol' scudder ain't bein' as cantankerous as a old billy goat on his last leg. I have ta scratch my head when I study on what he done last week. I'm a-thinkin' that he actual believes that I eat breakfast with him jes' so's I can git me some free vittles: pooey. I knowed it's hard for him ta believe, given how cranky he gits, but I like Doc's company in the mornin'. Now I knowed thar ain't too many folks in Dodge who could say that real honest-like, cause that ol' scudder can sure git meaner than a old heifer havin' its hide taken off with a spoon. But I sorta missed him a lot lately.....  
  
Them cowboys comin' outta the Long Branch sure is drunk. The thought of a cold beer makes my mouth water something awful, and I haveta smack my lips together to git it ta stop. My mind's pulled across the street as I heared them footsteps echoin' - footsteps that I'd knowed anywhar; it's Matthew. He heads down the boardwalk and into the door o' the Long Branch. For a moment, I think I might git up and go on over thar and join him, but I knowed that sometimes Matthew jes' likes it ta be him and Miss Kitty, and I wouldn't never wanna git in thar way, so's I jes' continue to set on the bench by the jailhouse. Matthew and Miss Kitty.... it's a dern shame that them two ain't hitched. If'n I was Matthew, I don't think I'd be a-draggin' my boots like this; but then I ain't never been in no hurry to git all knotted-up, so's I spose I ortn't ta be thinkin' on Matthew so.  
  
But I cain't help a-wonderin' if'n Miss Kitty'll jes' wait on him forever. It ain't somethin' I thank about a lot, but ev'ry now and agin, I cain't help it. It's like goin' to a hog roast and not samplin' none o' the hog. I sure hope she never gits no ideas fer leavin'... Dodge City jes' wouldn't be the same without her, and ol' Matthew, well, he wouldn't be the same neither. I nod to Mr. Fenster and his wife as they amble on by, tippin' my hat to the Mrs. It sure might be nice ta be married; but I spose that once ya are, ya cain't git nothin' done fer yerself ever agin. Course I don't knowed that from sperience, jes' a guess from a-lookin' around me. I wonder why ol' Doc's never got married. Course, I spect he couldn't find no shemale to say yes to him. That's prolly why he never talks about it. I've had enough close-calls ta make my skin start a-crawlin' up itself. Yessir.  
  
I shake my head to myself jes' a-thankin' on it. I still think of Dodge as my home though, even if'n I ain't hitched to nobody. I got me a family almost actual-like without all the hoopla and some of it ain't as fun as havin' yer own girl, but it also ain't got the hard ta figure parts neither. Matthew, Doc and Miss Kitty are the bestest friends a feller could have. Honest I don't know what I'd do if'n somethin' happened to any of um. Jes' the idear of it makes my toes go all wiggly and snappity-like. Dodge'd never be the same, and if'n anything'd make me leave, it'd be losin' those clostest ta me like that....  
  
The deep voice near rattles me off the bench.  
  
Festus? What's the matter?  
  
I jes' look up at Doc, I cain't answer to him. I feel his hand touch my shoulder softly, and he leans in closer.  
  
Festus, are you all right?  
  
I clear my throat and finally my voice squeaks out, Whaddya mean, Doc?  
  
Here now....  
  
He sits down next to me and pulls out his handkerchief - fellas like Doc don't carry no rags - he gently wipes my cheeks with it, and suddenly I cain't look him in the eye no more. He bends his head down, trying to git me to look at him, but I jes' cain't. After a moment, he stops tryin', but instead of leavin' me be, he leans back on the bench next to me.  
  
Somethin' happen?  
  
I shake my head no, but cain't bring myself to tell him what stung my eyes so.  
  
Did somebody say somethin' that upsetcha, cause if they did--  
  
--No Doc, it ain't nothin'...  
  
Sure looked like somethin' to me.....  
  
He lets the quiet sit betwixt us fer a minute, then his voice gits softer.  
  
You know, I was gonna come over here and tell you that you owed me a beer at the Long Branch for all those breakfasts I've bought you over the years at Delmonico's, but somehow now, I just can't do it.....  
  
I look up at him, and can see his concern, and I cain't stand bein' the cause of it.  
  
If'n I had a nickel, Doc, I'd buy you a beer. Honest I would....  
  
He sounds a little cranky when he answers, YOU'd buy ME a beer? When hell freezes over...  
  
Oh now, thar ya go, ya cain't jes' leave well enough alone, can ya?  
  
He looks at me, and I knowed by the smile on his lips that he's funnin' me; I knowed it cause it reached his eyes. I cain't keep my own lips from curvin' up ever so tiny a bit, and Doc pats my knee as he stands up.  
  
Come on Festus old boy, I'll buy you a beer. You look like you could use one.  
  
I swaller down the emotion I feel bubblin' up inside and nod, Much obliged, Doc.  
  
The ol' scudder grabs a-holt of my arm and starts to pull me toward the Long Branch. I don't mind it none because it tells me that the Dodge City I call my home ain't goin' nowhars for a long time to come.  
  
The End


End file.
